On the 8th of August 2013 I had both of my breasts surgically removed. My ‘breast conserving’ treatment for triple negative breast cancer had not been successful and pathology on the most recently removed slice showed active invasive cancer. For various reasons (I’ve detailed these previously for anyone who is interested) I chose not to have any kind of reconstruction. I also chose to to worry about wearing any kind of prosthetic device to give the appearance of breasts.
Fake boobs (aka ‘foobs’) were something I was always prepared to consider, but initially my huge wounds from my F cup breasts meant I was much more comfortable without a bra and by the time I healed I had noticed something very surprising: Most people didn’t notice I’d had my breasts removed! For those that don’t understand sizing, and F cup is almost a kilogram of breast tissue. Think grapefruit sized. Big grapefruit sized. It still happens occasionally; I run into someone I haven’t seen since before the surgery and when I tell them they suddenly look at my chest and gasp. It turns out, we mostly look at people’s faces and not their chests.
I suppose my years of yoga played a part in my decision. Thanks to strong chest muscles I didn’t have the concave appearance that can be an issue for many women post-mastectomy. I also spent some time choosing clothing that suited my new look. After years of wearing a bra I rejoiced in the comfort and freedom of not needing one. I gathered an impressive collection of scarves and loose structured jackets. I figured out that handkerchief hemlines and low-cut necklines needed to go, but slim line skirts and pants, shoulder detail and cowl necks were suddenly flattering. I was happily ‘flat and fabulous’.
It came as a surprise to friends when I decided to try foobs. My first attempts involved the soft forms and bra I was given post surgery. These rode up and looked like I’d borrowed the breasts of a teenager. I also found myself adjusting them and worrying about them falling out at inopportune moments. Boob soup anyone? My decision to try them at all was prompted by my experience shopping for formal wear. My daughter is getting married next year and as mother-of-the-bride I’m going to need to get into some kind of glorious frock. The formal wear choices for flat-chested women are not impressive. A flattering chiffon pants suit was deemed ‘too casual’ by my daughter and the beaded silver dress I already own and love looked strange. What you notice most in fitted clothes when you don’t have boobs is your tummy!
I was also aware that while people look at your face in real life, photos are a different matter. I decided to get professionally fitted for prosthetics. I didn’t book anything or make any plans, other than thinking I would get around to it before the wedding in June 2018.
Recently I had my final visit with my oncologist. That means I’m four and a half years since diagnosis (woohoo!) and I only have one visit left with my surgeon before I am officially at the end of treatment. My oncologist still looks at me with disbelief, wondering how I managed to survive what I now know was a likely death sentence. She smiles and shakes her head and tells me to just keep doing whatever I have been doing. I give her a copy of my book and she hugs me.
After this appointment I find myself in the city, feeling like I should do something to mark this milestone, and it occurs to me that I am close to Leila O’Toole, the specialist supplier and fitter of breast forms and post-mastectomy lingerie. I’d read great reviews about them following surgery. I look them up on my phone and nervously give them a call, half expecting to be told that I need to make an appointment well in advance. A very pleasant woman on the phone tells me to come right over.
I negotiate the very slow and crowded lift to arrive at their suite of rooms on level 8 of the Dymocks building in Sydney. There are four or five women of various ages, including one gorgeous young woman with bright purple hair. Pauline is closer to my age and shows me into a fitting room. She needs to look at my chest to know how to fit me, and runs a tape measure around me. We discuss size and both agree that I do not want an F cup. The real ones were heavy and sometimes cumbersome. Something smaller that suits my body shape please.
The first bra and prosthetics look fine to me. Okay, it looks like I’m wearing fake boobs but I expected that. It’s an odd feeling to be back in a bra after all these years. Pauline has what is obviously her standard spiel about how wearing foobs (she calls them ‘breast forms’) will help my balance and posture, and how most clothing looks better with them before adding, “Well let’s be honest, all clothing.” When I tell her it’s been over three years since my surgery she’s shocked. Somehow I’ve managed to dress myself and not to topple over without them! I know she means well and I’m sure my circumstances are unusual. I’m guessing they usually see people soon after surgery or not at all.
Pauline recommends I try the next size up. Visually there doesn’t seem to be a lot of difference but the minute I put these on I can see the improvement. A good prosthetic should sit naturally against the chest. If I put my hand on my collarbone and slide it downwards there’s a very natural slope from my chest muscle to the prosthetic. I put a cotton singlet on and I am startled by how real these look. It is clearly worth being professionally fitted.
The breast forms are silicone with a microfibre backing. They are designed to also be used by women that have only had one breast removed which means they weigh what breasts would weigh. The feel a bit like memory foam and are pleasant to touch. Pauline tells me that the forms will also protect my chest and I appreciate this. It can be risky to hug people, particularly if I’m wearing chunky jewellery, and foobs will give me some protective padding.
The bras are designed with nice wide sections on the straps so they don’t dig into the shoulders (why couldn’t I get bras like this when I had breasts?) and have a pocket sewn into them so the foob doesn’t fall out. Once they are in the bra, you can move them about a bit until you’re happy with how they sit, just like you would your own breasts.
I leave with two breast forms and two bras. The first is a practical, cream coloured bra that will be smooth under t-shirts and the second is black and lacy. Pauline asks if I’d like to leave the black one on. I decide to surprise my husband by wearing it home.
I’ve now taken the foobs out a few times. I’ve noticed that once they have been on for a few hours my body strangely registers them as part of me. I suppose after all those years of having breasts this in not surprising. Of course they are numb, but then surgically reconstructed breasts are numb too. The other thing I’ve noticed is that people still don’t notice. I had a get together with some brilliant women recently and towards the end of the day I asked what they thought of my prosthetics. Once I drew attention to them there were lots of compliments along with requests to touch them (but not in a creepy way!). There was general agreement that they look very natural. There was also unanimous agreement that, although we’d been together for several hours, nobody had noticed them until I pointed them out. This never ceases to surprise me. One woman commented, “I knew something was different but I thought maybe you’d had your hair cut.”
Wearing foobs comes with all the inconvenience of wearing a bra. In hot weather they are as uncomfortable as the real thing. I’m glad I can take them off. I’m also happy to have the option of not wearing them when I’m doing yoga or working in the garden. The real ones were a bit of a nuisance in both circumstances.
Having seen the difference a small change in size can make to the appearance of foobs, I now marvel at the skill of surgeons that provide alternatives from body tissue or silicone implants. I can understand why many women have a number of revisions (additional surgery) when a small difference in size can have a significant impact on appearance. I remain very happy with my personal decision not to put my body through that. I respect any woman’s decision to go down that path, but having perfectly sized foobs that I can take off at the end of the night is definitely a better option for me. So is just being happy in my own skin and not wearing a bra.
I think of my foobs as being like any other fashion accessory that I use when I dress up. I won’t be wearing them all the time, any more than I would wear high heels or dangly ear-rings, but it’s nice to have them as part of an outfit when I choose. I can see what Pauline meant about some outfits just looking better with a bit of a curve at the chest. I don’t agree that this is true of all outfits. There are plenty of naturally small-breasted women on the planet and lots of beautiful clothing designed for them.
If you’re considering foobs then I would recommend a professional fitting. Some areas have a mobile service that will come to your home. The full cost of the breast forms was refunded by Medicare (the government health fund in Australia) and my private health insurance (Medibank Private) covered $70 towards the cost of each bra. The government will cover me for a new pair of breast forms every two years. I might try some of the light weight forms for swimwear next time. Leila O’Toole also have a wonderful selection of swimwear and I admit it has been particularly difficult to find nice swimmers. I wonder if mastectomy swimwear is covered by my health insurer.
Caring for breast forms is simple. “Wash them like you would your own skin,” advises Pauline. “We like to keep it simple.” The front of the form is silicone and will towel dry. The microfibre backing takes a bit longer. If you’re any where near Sydney and would like to meet a great team of people with excellent product range and knowledge then I’d happily recommend Leila O’Toole. Here’s a link to their website. Once you know your size you can also mail order from them.
Are you wondering how my husband reacted when I arrived home? He noticed I was carrying a very large unmarked shopping bag (foobs each come in a large storage box to hold their shape) and asked what I’d bought. “It’s a surprise,” I told him, “I’ll show you when we get home.” Yep, he didn’t notice that I was wearing foobs. Not when he hugged me, not when I put the seat belt on and not until I actually took my shirt off when we got home. When I asked him why he thought he didn’t even see them, he said this: “I don’t see you as parts. I love all of you. I just see all of you. You’re always beautiful to me.” He’s probably a huge part of why my recovery did not require foobs.